And it wasn't called "Untitled"

Renee won first prize in Our university Town's Photography competition. This is The ARts WEek here or something.

I knew it! I knew it I knew it I knew it. If people ever saw one of her holgas they'd surrender money and ribbons.

I drove over and she and Pa and I spent half an hour going through her portfolio online, selecting our own favorites to see close up.

Later at the reception I'm surprised how many familiar faces I see from the Sunrise Sober At Seven Group. The woman explaining the judges' reasoning to Renee didn't acknowledge me, not even a farkin' wink, and I hated her with a fury you shouldn't believe because that's too strong a word. I resented her though. And I'm not doing a fourth step over it.

The Bank hosting this served Hawaiian Punch and cookies. I didn't want any.

After trying to stay as close to our star as I could, wanting to be seen with her, I finally gave up because, you know, that never works. So after walking through the exhibition going "phhht" at every picture and giving people my up and down skeptical look, I stepped outside to blow some smoke.

Decided to take some pictures of my own.







I didn't notice that lovely red hair until I got the picture home. (Gaaa, aaaah..."love's not an evil thing"...) Probably paying too much attention to that invader from Mars.


Great, memorable occasion of course. I was sorry the Phooka was at work, she'd have been impressed anyway.

I went back in and found Renee admiring a small close-up photo of a blade of grass or something. She said she could probably do that and I thought: "??" because I just don't understand visual artists.

Renee's photo passed two tests: the first was that it was the one she chose to present. The second was when the judge said it was the best.

Earlier she had to explain it to me, granting that it was subjective--- just as I was thinking finally, no, it's not subjective because it passed two tests, not just one.

She explained then why she chose that particular photo to exhibit (with one other). I began to see what she meant, which was a goose.

I know what I like but I want to know what's Good, and why. I get this flickering of understanding sometimes of the Bible. Or I'll get something about a Dylan song lyric and it's like understanding a different type of intelligence, even a higher intelligence (that's the goose, see?) So I appreciated that.

What else, since I last wrote? Mrs. Applebones got a fan letter, that's something else. Some guy from New York who likes Robert Benchley, so he can't be all too bad, and it makes sense he'd like her style.

Tomorrow, I've decided to return to work. This little outpatient procedure of mine was too successful, and for sympathy I finally had to take a picture of myself and send it to my mother, who wrote back "great pic!" Just enough too-much-love to feel it evaporate. Then she continued from last letter about my Aunt Wilma, they tried to get committed once. Haha! Wilma is smarter than them all. We enjoy that.